Starring: in
alphabetical order) Damián Alcázar, John Leguizamo,
Leonor Watling, José Maria Yazpik, with a special appearance
by Alfred Molina. Written and Directed by Sebastián Cordero.
Produced by Jorge Vergara and Alfonso Cuarón. In Spanish
with English subtitles.
Rated R for violence,
sexuality and language
Running time: 98 minutes.
crónica
n 1: chronicle, history 2: JOURN. (artículo) feature, article.
“He keeps records
-- records of what he does so he doesn’t forget what he’s
done.”
This could be said
of humankind in general but in Sebastián Cordero’s
“Crónicas”
it is chillingly attributed to the elusive serial child killer
plaguing the Ecuadorian village of Babahoyo. The killer keeps
a morbidly detailed notebook in which he identifies his victims,
their gravesites, and his sexually depraved and murderous methodology.
Despite the wrenching emotional havoc the killer’s perverse
handiwork wreaks on the townspeople of Babahoyo, there is another
chronicler—an uncredited character, so to speak—that
just as perversely affects whomever it comes in contact with—the
television camera and by extension, “la tele” (the
television). Babahoyoans suffer many privations but in their homes
la tele is ubiquitous, making it a powerful and integral part
of their world view. With “Crónicas,” Cordero
deftly delivers a perceptive thriller that bares the insidious
effects of a television camera, la tele and a child killer wherever
they appear.
For
less-than-altruistic reasons, Manolo Bonilla (John Leguizamo),
a Miami-based tabloid television reporter, is determined to find
the pond scum of serial killers he named the “Monster of
Babahoyo.” Manolo and his TV crew—producer Marisa
(Leonor Watling) and cameraman Ivan (José Maria Yazpik)—attend
the funeral of three of the Monster’s latest victims. With
token efforts at being unobtrusive, their investigative presence
disturbs an otherwise solemn funeral as Manolo asks Leonor to
find a friend or relative of the deceased for questioning while
the camera weaves through the gathering seeking dramatic footage.
Like a journalistic predator awaiting his informant prey, Manolo
stations himself at the gravesite of one of the victims and waits
for a relative to show. Joseph Juan, a brother of one of the victims,
soon arrives and Manolo begins his snakecharmer efforts to get
the boy to give him an interview. “Do you want to be on
la tele?” This gives the distraught Joseph Juan pause. Manolo
continues reeling, “I’m your friend. Trust me.”
Creepily, this is not much different from the enticements the
Monster uses to woo his young victims. When Joseph Juan chooses
to run instead [at this point, you almost want to stand and whoop],
he runs straight into the path of the truck that Vinicio (Damián
Alcázar in a savvily nuanced performance), a traveling
salesman, is driving. He is struck dead and the mob scene that
ensues is absolutely riveting, not only for the gritty beating
and immolation done to Vinicio [this is Fritz Lang’s mob
justice in “M” brought to sadistic fruition!], but
also for the sickeningly voyeuristic camera that almost takes
on a life of its own as the cameraman scrambles to do Manolo’s
screamed bidding, “Ivan, film it, film it!”
Vinicio
is apprehended and makes Manolo an offer he can’t refuse:
Manolo is to give Vinicio’s case a heartwarming exposé
on his tabloid show “Una Hora Con la Verdad” (One
Hour With the Truth) in exchange for hard-core information on
the Monster. Manolo bites and what follows is a grippingly taut
dance between two veteran snakecharmers, one trying desperately
to outwit the other. In his obsessive search for the Monster,
Manolo, along with his TV crew, find themselves slipping in the
putrid muck that surrounds everyone the Monster touches. Early
in the film there is a scene where Vinicio, dressed only in men’s
briefs, stands in a corner covered from head to toe in slimy excrement—a
malodorously disgusting ploy he uses to keep other prisoners from
executing jail justice. By the time Manolo and his crew are done
with their pursuit of the Monster, they pretty much feel like
they are the ones covered with an internal excrement that won’t
easily wash off with just soap and water.
“Crónicas,”
Cordero’s sophomore film, is a more than worthy addition
to the Latino film wave that is just beginning to hit mainstream
U.S. film fare. He has written and directed a provocative script
that not only shares a story specific to his native Ecuador, but
also one that people the world over will understand—a fine
line that takes great skill to navigate. Through his dark tale,
Cordero also helps to debunk what for many Latin Americans is
a truism—“If it’s on TV, it must be the truth.”—possibly
serving as an important catalyst for a more judgmental appraisal
of visual media. This film is not to be missed. Go see it and
then spread the word.
For
less-than-altruistic reasons, Manolo Bonilla (John Leguizamo),
a Miami-based tabloid television reporter, is determined to find
the pond scum of serial killers he named the “Monster of
Babahoyo.” Manolo and his TV crew—producer Marisa
(Leonor Watling) and cameraman Ivan (José Maria Yazpik)—attend
the funeral of three of the Monster’s latest victims. With
token efforts at being unobtrusive, their investigative presence
disturbs an otherwise solemn funeral as Manolo asks Leonor to
find a friend or relative of the deceased for questioning while
the camera weaves through the gathering seeking dramatic footage.
Like a journalistic predator awaiting his informant prey, Manolo
stations himself at the gravesite of one of the victims and waits
for a relative to show. Joseph Juan, a brother of one of the victims,
soon arrives and Manolo begins his snakecharmer efforts to get
the boy to give him an interview. “Do you want to be on
la tele?” This gives the distraught Joseph Juan pause. Manolo
continues reeling, “I’m your friend. Trust me.”
Creepily, this is not much different from the enticements the
Monster uses to woo his young victims. When Joseph Juan chooses
to run instead [at this point, you almost want to stand and whoop],
he runs straight into the path of the truck that Vinicio (Damián
Alcázar in a savvily nuanced performance), a traveling
salesman, is driving. He is struck dead and the mob scene that
ensues is absolutely riveting, not only for the gritty beating
and immolation done to Vinicio [this is Fritz Lang’s mob
justice in “M” brought to sadistic fruition!], but
also for the sickeningly voyeuristic camera that almost takes
on a life of its own as the cameraman scrambles to do Manolo’s
screamed bidding, “Ivan, film it, film it!”
Vinicio
is apprehended and makes Manolo an offer he can’t refuse:
Manolo is to give Vinicio’s case a heartwarming exposé
on his tabloid show “Una Hora Con la Verdad” (One
Hour With the Truth) in exchange for hard-core information on
the Monster. Manolo bites and what follows is a grippingly taut
dance between two veteran snakecharmers, one trying desperately
to outwit the other. In his obsessive search for the Monster,
Manolo, along with his TV crew, find themselves slipping in the
putrid muck that surrounds everyone the Monster touches. Early
in the film there is a scene where Vinicio, dressed only in men’s
briefs, stands in a corner covered from head to toe in slimy excrement—a
malodorously disgusting ploy he uses to keep other prisoners from
executing jail justice. By the time Manolo and his crew are done
with their pursuit of the Monster, they pretty much feel like
they are the ones covered with an internal excrement that won’t
easily wash off with just soap and water.